Sticks and Stones
by The.Dragon.Singer
Summary: Jasmine Volkov is a model; she doesn't know how to shoot, but she's pretty smart. And the cars she uses in her calender shoot...she thinks they're alive. Turns out they are. And when did that psychotic gold Lamborghini get in her garage! Sideswipe/OC/Sunstreaker
1. Photo Shoot

Wind blasted through the orange convertible Jaguar, blowing the red hair of the passenger back as she scrolled through the latest news on her Smart phone.

"Jazzy, you'll never guess what kind of shoot I got you!" The driver yelled, pushing up his sunglasses and grinning with dazzlingly white teeth.

"What?" The woman in the passenger seat glanced up. "I'm hoping it's not another weird animal one. That was just creepy."

"No, no! You should know better, Jasmine!"

Jasmine rolled her bright blue eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in an attempt to keep it from her face.

"What kind of shoot, Nikki?"

"So, Cars Unlimited is doing a calender shoot, but they don't want to hire some ridiculously expensive model to do it. They've hired you to do the entire shoot, but we have to supply the cars." Nikki brushed his short brown hair from his face as they slowed to a stop behind a line of cars.

"Well, where are we getting the cars then?" Jasmine frowned, turning to look at Nikki. Sun beat down from above them, sending Jasmine's windblown locks into a blaze of fiery red.

"I've made a call to my good friend, Sarah Lennox. She's on maternity leave right now, with her baby girl, but she's the manager of one of the dealerships in town. Her husband has recently been made commanding officer of a new military section, so we're meeting them at an abandoned strip of land. They'll blindfold us and then fly us to their temporary base. Just wait until you see what they've got!"

"I do like cars, Nikki," The young woman sighed, smoothing her jeans. "But I'm not a obsessive fan like you are. I only know a few designs by heart, and only because I want one, or they're really popular."

"I know. I know. Humour me, sweetheart." The male snorted, slamming his foot on the gas and take a very unused exit as the traffic began moving again.

* * *

"Welcome to our NEST base. My name is William Lennox, commanding officer of this base. Please follow me to where the vehicles are waiting. Would you introduce yourselves?"

"Sure, muffin! I'm Nikki, Jasmine's manager!" Nikki grinned, fluffing his red designer jacket and adding a bounce to a stride that didn't need one.

"My name is Jasmine Volkov. I'm a model." Jasmine supplied, keeping a firm grasp on her large yellow purse as she watched military men go by. For the most part, they didn't notice her, but when they did they smiled happily.

"Are you German?" Will asked, turning his head back to look at her. Jasmine shook her head, heels clacking against the concrete as she sped up.

"I'm Russian on my father's side." She paused behind the commander, who nodded and used his shoulder to push open the door to a large hanger bay overrun with cameras, lights and people. Several vehicles sat in the various open places in the room, a white backdrop on one side and lights shining down on the other.

"Jasmine! Over here. Now!"

"Sorry, Commander. That's my prep team. They're rather bossy." Jasmine apologized, hurrying over to the team of women in a shielded off area to the left. Nikki bustled after her, and Will only shook his head and exited the room.

Not long after he left, the commander received a call that he quickly put into his Bluetooth.

"Hey. Speak to me, Ironhide. What's going on?" Will strode through the base.

"_The red haired one is taking off her clothing and changing into a very revealing outfit involving human medics._"

"That's so weird that you can watch them and get away with it. Ratchet's first, I assume." He peered around another corner and grinned when he saw his friend Epps.

"_Guess so."_

"Keep me posted."

"_Right."_

"Epps! My man!"

"What do you want, Will?" The black man growled, pushing his commander's arm away. "I'm nervous enough without people sneaking up on me. Those bots are gonna blow their cover, I know it."

"Naw. They'll be good. However, I think the nice Russian model and her manager could use a beverage. Guess who gets to be the waiter?!"

"NO."

"It's an order."

"Fuck you, Will."

"That's Major Will to you."

"More like Major Pain-in-the-Ass."

* * *

Nikki was nearly drooling over all the vehicles the base had; his favourite was the bright yellow Camaro and the Search and Rescue Hummer.

Jasmine wasn't sure what she liked, but the giant truck kind of scared her with how big it was.

Currently, she was lounging on the hood of a very nice Corvette Stingray. It was one of the four cars she knew in this bay; the Corvette, the Ferrari, the Hummer and the Camaro.

Corvettes were her favourite type of car, next to Lamborghini's.

"Jazz, look up more." She lifted her blue eyes to the roof, ignoring the chatter around her in favour of recalling her latest book, one of which was her mother's favourites before she died.

* * *

"_What are you reading, Mama?" The thin girl pulled herself up onto the soft leather couch beside her mother. _

"_Ah, I'm reading _The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo_." The blond woman smiled, handing her child a picture book. "I'll read this book with you, though."_

"_Alistair's..." The little girl frowned at the title, sounding out the words. "Un...Under...Underwater! Adven...ture. Alistair's Underwater Adventure!"_

"_Very good, Jazz!"_

"_Mama, why do you call me Jazz? Isn't that a type of music?" Jasmine pushed up her thick-rimmed glasses. _

"_Because jazz is a wonderful type of music, just like you're wonderful!" Cassandra laughed, tucking her daughter's hair behind her ear. The blond woman let out a harsh cough, blue eyes dulling as pain wracked her body. _

"_Mama, are you okay?" Jasmine asked, worry older than her seven years flashing through her eyes. _

"_Mama's fine. She's just sick, Jazz-Hands." _

"_What kind of sick?" _

"_Mama has cancer. I'll be okay, honey. Why don't you go play with the neighbours?" _

"_Okay!" Jasmine's eyes lit up as she scrambled off the couch to grab her little shoes. "See you later, Mama!"_

"_Bye, sweetheart."_

* * *

Jasmine sighed, climbing out of the bright orange Jaguar with a groan.

"And be sure to get enough sleep! And coffee isn't good for your teeth, Jazz! Remember-!"

"I know, Nikki. I'll do my best with the sleep thing." Jasmine threw a smile over her shoulder before trudging up the front pathway to her front door. Once the model had shut the door behind her, she let out a relieved sigh.

Jasmine loved Nikki; she really did. But sometimes -all the time- he was constantly nagging at her to do something or another. It was his job, but Jasmine wondered if sometimes he could tone it down.

Nikki had been with her since she first joined the agency, back in eleventh grade. She'd transferred when she moved after graduating and Nikki went with her. He lived closer to the new headquarters anyway.

Jasmine moved towards her kitchen, kicking off her heels as she went and leaving them where they landed. She leaned against the island, sipping a glass of water.

The cars back at the NEST base gave her a strange feeling, as the base itself did. Like she'd been there before and the experience hadn't been very good.

The cars...had felt like they were watching her. And she had sworn that the little red car, the Chevrolet Trax, had shuddered a little, and the hood had heated up.

It was seriously creepy. Hopefully, she'd never have to deal with the cars again. Especially the big Peterbilt with flames. It was just too big, and it felt _old_. Nearly as old as the Hummer and the black pickup; but the Peterbilt felt..._wise_. Like it knew everything.

And if it _was_ alive, Jasmine wouldn't be surprised if the thing could read minds. It freaked her out.

But she was done with the cars, and now she was home. The redhead set her glass on the counter and moved towards the bathroom, where the bath was waiting for her to fill it with scalding water and bubbles.

Jasmine paused as she passed her home phone, which was on the hall table. She'd forgotten to check her messages. The model sighed, pressing the button on to play them.

One was from her grandmother, checking to see how she was, and one was from Nikki yelling to get her up this morning.

Jasmine shook her head, continuing on to the nice bath she wanted.

* * *

Jasmine sighed from her bed as the cell phone beside her head rang again. Her hand pat around her beside table until she knocked the phone to floor and had to fish along the ground for it.

In the end, Jasmine ended up with her legs on the bed, and her torso on the floor and her phone in her hand.

"Why are you calling me?! It's, like, seven in the morning!"

"_Good morning to you too, Jazzy. I'm pulling up to your house in fifteen minutes. We're going to breakfast at the new cafe, then hitting the gym, and going to a fitting. After that, we're having a light lunch, going to a runway casting, and then we're heading to the evening fitting, before dinner. Tomorrow you get to sleep in a bit before we go to the show for the local wedding shop."_

Jasmine groaned.


	2. BBQ

Jasmine hummed along with the radio beside her bathtub, after a long day working. Her head bobbed with the rhythm and a few stray strands of red hair escaped from the bun on the back of her head.

Her muscles ached from the gym, and her legs ached from the runway casting, and her brain was tired from putting on and taking off clothes, but all in all, Jazz was satisfied.

However, the calendar shoot from the other day was _still _bothering her. It was odd, flashes of the base's hallways kept flashing up before her eyes...although, the model had clearly not been down those halls, and they seemed to be from a shorter height than her own.

The cars too, felt odd. Jasmine had sworn she'd seen the green Beat cruising around the city with no driver, but Nikki assured her it was just her imagination, and he had asked how much sleep she'd gotten the night before.

Jasmine sighed, the upbeat tune from the music player not having the full affect as Jasmine thought more about yesterday.

The shoot had gone fairly well; she and the photographer had excellent electricity, which was good, because if made everyone's lives easier. She had changed her outfits half a dozen times at least, all matching the cars in one way or another.

The Search and Rescue Hummer had been paired with a short nurse's outfit and a lollipop stuck between her bright lips. The Corvette had been paired with a strapless number that swept to the floor, coloured a shimmery plum. The big black truck, the Topkick, had been numbered with a pair of military print shorts and a tight tanktop, along with a very nice gun.

The Peterbilt had been skinny jeans and a loose t-shirt. The red Trax had been a pair of pants, and a jacket, along with a matching Santa Hat and boots, all green.

The green Beat had been paired with a hose and a red bikini. She'd wore a tight race suit with the Ferrari, a nice black dress for the Camaro, which she'd been half laying in on a pile of white fur rugs.

But there had been a whispering in the back of Jasmine's mind, one which no matter how hard she concentrated on, she could never figure out the whisper's words. They came from the vehicles; at least, that's what Jazz thought.

She slapped her cheeks and grumbled, good mood ruined as she climbed from the now draining bath and switched off the radio. The redhead towelled herself dry and strode to her room buck naked.

There was no risk in the neighbours seeing her, as Jasmine's blinds were shut.

She paused a moment beside her beside table and smiled at the picture holding a lovely blond woman and a redheaded man with blue eyes.

She was broken from her thoughts by the phone ringing, and she made a beeline to make Katy Perry's Hot n' Cold stop playing.

"Hello?"

"_Jazzy? It's Nikki._" The redhead rolled her eyes. "_I've just been invited to go to a barbeque at the Lennox's, and they told me to invite you! How exciting! So clear your schedule, girl. We'll be gone all day. And they live on a farm, so don't wear heels! Ta-ta! I'll pick you up tomorrow!_"

Jasmine didn't get time to say anything and she gave her phone an odd look as the dial tone buzzed from it's speaker.

"That was strange."

* * *

When morning came, Jazz waited a few minutes for Nikki to call and yell at her, before she remembered she had the morning off. The model grinned as she rushed into the living room in her pajamas, jumping on the couch to watch some Dexter.

It was possibly her favourite TV series. Dexter was about a serial killer, who worked as a blood-splatter analyst. It was better than it sounded.

By eleven, Jasmine had watched three hour-long episodes before scurrying back to her room to change.

Simple jeans in military patterned black found their way onto her body, and it was followed by a loose t-shirt with a large wolf on the front. Her hair was thrown up into a ponytail, and her worn converse found her feet just as Nikki was ringing the doorbell.

Jasmine opened it with a grin, grabbed her hoodie from the closet beside the door and picked up her purse as she followed Nikki to his bright orange Jaguar.

"You'll love the Lennox's farm." He babbled at her, glancing over occasionally before returning his eyes to the road. "It's so big, and there is so much space, you could run for ages. It makes me feel _alive! _Not like this cooped up city. If I didn't have a great job, and hated long commutes, I'd by a country home too."

"Wonderful." Jasmine chuckled, watching several trees pass by before they turned onto a bumpy, but paved, road.

"And their daughter, I've heard, is the sweetest thing! She's four; blond and green eyes and smiles like the sun! Her name is Annabell. You met Will the other day, and I can't remember if you've ever met Sarah..."

"I don't think I have."

"Look! Look! We're here!" The male squealed, throwing his car into park and leaping out at the friendly looking woman with a little girl beside her. "Sarah!"

Jasmine shook her head and meandered over, one hand on her bag.

Will smiled as she stopped before him.

"Nice to see you again, Miss Volkov."

"You too, Major Lennox." She nodded, smiling slightly.

"Call me Will. Everyone else does. Besides, I'm not on duty today." He laughed, and the smile lit up his face.

"Alright. Then call me Jasmine, or Jazz, if you prefer." A sad look passed over Will's face but it returned to it's happy expression in seconds, leaving Jasmine to wonder if she had seen it at all.

"We'll be firing up the grill around four, if that's okay?" Sarah turned to Will and lifted an eyebrow. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Jazz, this is my lovely wife, Sarah, and our daughter, Annabell."

Jasmine shook hands with the pretty woman and knelt to say hello to Annabell, who was peering from behind her mother's leg.

"Hello, Annabell."

"You're pretty."

Jasmine cooed, and smiled at the girl who pranced from behind her ma's leg and grabbed Jasmine's hand.

"Come see da horsies." The little girl dragged the young woman away.

"Alright."

"There's Zipper; he's the polka-dotted one. And Maria, the brown one. She's a mare. Least, that's what daddy says. And the grey one is Pasta. And the yellow one is Buttercup; he's my favourite. Daddy says he's really old." Anna grinned up at her new friend.

"I rode a horse once; his name was Duncan." The model pet Buttercup's nose as he nickered. "He was old too."

"How old are you?" Annabell suddenly asked.

"I'm twenty-one."

"What's your job?" She began pulling Jazz out of the stable and towards the child's swingset.

"I'm a model."

"When I grow up, I'm gonna be a doctor. So I can help the people Daddy says get hurt when he fights. He brings me back cool stuff when he comes back from fighting. Will you push me on the swing?"

* * *

The barbeque was rather pleasant and Jazz found that she liked the Lennox's, and their farm. Annabell seemed very keen on showing her everything.

One thing stuck out to the model, and it made her paranoid throughout the meal; it was the black Topkick parked within viewing distance of the picnic table, the Topkick that had the same license plate number as the one at base, Irnhide.

She was constantly looking out the corner of her eye and it, and her suspicions that the base's vehicles were alive grew, because that Topkick was most _definitely_ watching them.

* * *

**::Ironhide to Optimus:: -Ironhide**

**::Yes, Ironhide? What's your status?:: -Optimus **

**::The girl from that thing yesterday is having lunch with the Lennox's and an extremely obnoxious male. Can I terminate him?:: -Ironhide**

**::Ironhide...:: -Optimus**

**::Just kidding. The red-haired femme keeps looking at me, but hasn't made any moves. Shall I follow her cellphone signal to her housing unit and watch her for 'Con activity?:: -Ironhide**

**::Negative. The femme is most likely thinking of how familiar you look.:: -Optimus**

**::Copy that, Prime.:: -Ironhide**

The weapons specialist turned his audio receptors and his hidden optics to the young femme and Annabell as they said goodbye to one another.

The obnoxious male was call out to Will and Sarah as he stood half in his car and half out. Annabell planted a kiss on the femme's check before running inside their housing unit and the two visitors peeled down the road.

* * *

Sunstreaker grimaced, shaking rocks off his scraped up paint in annoyance before transforming into the alt mode he had picked out. It was some expensive car called a Lamborghini, and the model was one of the most popular.

The mech roared forward, growling as the dust flew around him. His complaints ceased the moment his wheels touched the pavement of a highway. They started up again not even half a breem later when his HUD announced his lack of both Energon and recharge.

It was _not _his solar cycle.

The yellow mech accessed his GPS system, finding a nice set of suburban housing units with sub-units the organics called garages. They were quite spacious and not far from where he was.

He peeled off the highway onto and exit ramp and tore down the roads to one such of these houses. The garage door opened about halfway down the street and he eased himself in. Seconds later the golden mech was parked comfortably and deep in recharge.

* * *

Jasmine hummed as she fumbled with her keys, opening the door and giving a backwards wave to Nikki, who had already driven off.

She kicked off her sneakers into a heap on the floor and shuffled into the kitchen, when the partially open door to the garage caught her eye. Slinking forward, she kicked it open and blinked. There was nothing there.

The garage was empty...except for tire marks on the floor, which Jasmine was positive she hadn't made. However, she had left the door to the garage open, now that she thought about it, so she wasn't too worried. She was probably just stressed and imagining things.

The model shut and locked the door, before continuing upstairs to her bath.


	3. Workin' At The Car Wash

Jasmine woke on Saturday to rain hammering against her window. She grumbled and lifted herself from her bed, and shuffled to the kitchen for a poptart.

Her outdoor fashion show for a local shop had been canceled due to the weather and it left Jazz with nothing to do other than sit on her couch watching TV, which she didn't mind.

If the weather cleared up later, maybe she would go for a bike ride. She nodded, satisfied as she watched the beginning of Dexter.

* * *

Sunstreaker decided he didn't like the rain. It was cold, and wet, and made his already dirty paint streaked with mud.

He grumbled as he turned onto the suburban street, Lion Crescent, and splashed his way down the street to the housing unit who's garage he'd been staying in. As he pulled closer, his scanners, or what was left of them, picked up the life signature of a female inside. She was alone, and Sunstreaker snorted, pulling up the short driveway and activating the automatic garage.

He roared in and cut his engine, settling on his axles as the water dripped off him and the garage door closed and locked.

His solar and lunar cycle had been spent searching for the Autobots, but his efforts revealed his scanner was broken, his comm could only reach short distances, and his bond with his twin was blocked. It frustrated the front-liner to no end, that he was so close, yet so far.

Steam danced off his hood as he heated his chassis, allowing the water to evaporate.

* * *

Jazz froze, blue eyes narrowed as she cocked her head. Her ears picked up the sound of a car engine turning off, and the loud noise of a garage closing. She knew that she didn't have a _car_, or the _remote_ to the garage, or a _boyfriend_ with a car….Why was her garage opening?

Was it the person who parked there yesterday and left the tire marks on her floor?

Jasmine scowled, and tiptoed forward, opening the door slightly to peer though a crack.

Her mouth fell open, and she opened the door all the way.

There _was _a car in her garage, with no driver nearby. It's yellow paint was scratched, and it was caked in mud, but it was a God damn Lamborghini! And it was in _her _garage.

"Privet krasivyy." She murmured in Russian, padding around the sports car in her bare feet. "Gde sdelal vami prikhodit' ot?"

She paused beside the little red face above it's right wheel, but shrugged it off.

* * *

It took Sunstreaker a moment to find and then translate the language the femme was speaking as she walked around him.

It was Russian.

"Hello beautiful." She'd said. "Where did you come from?"

Sunstreaker didn't answer, he didn't owe this fleshy anything.

"My volya poluchat' vy k vash nadlezhashchiy vladelets! Ya volya delat' plakaty i ob''yavleniya!"

'_We'll get you to your proper owner. I'll make posters and ads._'

He had no...owner! He was Sunstreaker; deadly gorgeous mech, emphasis on the deadly and the gorgeous! Sunstreaker was not some _pet! _But this femme had faint traces of the other Autobots on her, so perhaps she could be useful.

Yes, Sunstreaker would stay with this femme and she would take him to the Autobots whether she liked it or not. And then he could get the mud and gunk from his gears.

And Sideswipe. Oh _Primus_. How wonderful it would be to have his twin and bond back. Perhaps, if his twin was there, Sunstreaker would not kill the femme squishy.

You know, if she didn't get stepped on first.

* * *

Jasmine gazed at her task with her arms crossed and legs spread out. A bucket of warm, soapy water sat her left, and the hose was waiting on her right.

Her blue gaze ran over the scratched yellow paint of the Lamborghini, before bending to left the hose with a sigh. Luckily, the weather was beautiful, hot and sticky. Good for washing random sports cars that show up out of no where.

Her street was occupied by several young men, living with their families and a group of high schoolers, both girls and boys. They were all outside, some playing on the road with younger siblings, and others sitting in the shade with headphones.

Either way, she would probably have an audience.

Jasmine squeezed the trigger on the hose nozzle, blasting a jet of icy water at the vehicle. It shook a moment, and the model got the sense that the car was extremely pissed off with her now.

And that was annoying. The cars at the calendar shoot, which was four days ago, had felt like this too. Not pissed off, per say, but she had felt emotions.

The model shook her head, slapping herself in the face with end of her ponytail as she turned the hose spray on full blast.

The mud slowly trickled away, first the hood, then the wheel wells, and the body, then the back. It made a nice brown river to the street, where it poured down the gutter.

Jasmine lifted the bucket of soapy water, fished inside for the sponge she'd dropped in earlier and went about washing the car like her father had taught her.

It wasn't long before she was completely drenched and the Lamborghini was sparkling, save for the scratches.

A long low whistle sounded behind the redhead as she bent to clean the back bumper. She turned her face upwards and met the eyes of one of her neighbors.

"Nice car."

"Um...Thank you." She smiled.

"Could use some body work though." He put his hands in his pockets. "I'm Miles, Miles Lancaster."

"Jasmine Volkov. Nice to meet you." The redhead grinned, adjusting her pale blue t-shirt before holding out her hand. Miles shook and then knelt to look at one of the scratches, running his finger along it.

The Lamborghini instantly let off a loud wail, and Miles fell onto his behind in a big puddle. Jasmine rushed to the driver's door, and reached inside. She snatched the keys from the car and it silenced.

"Sorry." She rubbed the back of her head, tucking the little metal device into her pocket.

"It's alright." Miles laughed, glancing at his butt as he stood. "Hey, I know a guy who could do the paint on his thing for cheap."

"Really? Where can I find him?"

"Her, actually. One second." Miles lifted his cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number. "Hello, Mikaela? Yes, it's Miles."

He was quiet for a while, rolling his eyes.

"I know you're still pissed off with me. I've got a car question for you. So, this chick I know whats her car painted, yellow, think you can do it? Your week off! Aww, Mikaela! Josh is there? Alright, I'll let her know. Thanks. Yeah, yeah. Say hi to Sam. Bye."

"Right." Miles clapped his hands, grinning at the tall redhead who leaned against the Lamborghini. "Mikaela is busy making out with her boyfriend, and it's her week off, so I can't phone her again. Good news though! The really good paint is in today! His name is Josh Brandon, and if you go now, you should be able to get your car done by tomorrow."

"Isn't that a little fast?"

"In this heat!? I'll take you there!"

Jasmine glanced at the Lamborghini and darted inside for her wallet, which held her still valid license.

* * *

Pissed? Oh, Sunstreaker was more than pissed. he was furious! The puny little femme squishy had taken his keys! Not that he needed them entirely, but they were his dammit! Not her's!

And she'd been doing such a good job of washing him off, minus the freezing hose. He'd considered keeping her around for a while, as his personal washing fleshy.

But the moment she'd snatched his keys, that thought had been thrown into space and incinerated. And then she dared get into his interior in still damp clothing with the smelly male who was always grinning.

Her grip on the wheel drove him into such a fury that he wouldn't have been able to drive, so maybe it was a good thing she was.

…...and she going to repaint him, using her credits...

No. Sunstreaker shook his helm mentally. He was going soft, and Sunstreaker, great and beautiful Sunstreaker, was not _soft!_

"Welcome to the Banes' Auto-repair! You the chick who needed her Lambo painted? Seven hundred bucks, cause you know my man Miles!"

"Yes. I'd like it yellow please, kind of gold. And be careful." Jasmine chuckled, grinning over at the still seething Sunstreaker. "I swear the thing's temperamental."

Nope. That squishy was going to be a _pancake_ on the asphalt the moment he was reunited with his twin.

* * *

**I'd like to point out that I don't know Russian, or own Transformers, but Google Translate is my friend. **

**Thanks to all who favourited this, and those who are following this. And my lovely reviewers. **

**So, Jazz found Sunny. Sunny's not happy. Sunny doesn't like the squishy, but Sunny's gonna use the squishy for his own selfish purposes. Sound good? Is Sunny okay?**

**Feed back is appreciated, and I enjoy reviews!**


	4. Police Cruiser

Sunstreaker was happier now, not so furious, merely pissed again.

He'd had to spend the entire night in the auto shop, holding absolutely still as his new paint dried. The color was more golden than his original color, slightly metallic, but the mech found he didn't mind. In fact, he liked the color more.

When the squishy femme arrived the next morning, a bag the same color as his new paint over her shoulder, and the keys she had taken spinning around her fingers. She swiped her strange plastic card though the machine, while she stared at him.

Her bright blue eyes were unreadable, but she smiled at Josh when he handed her the complimentary smelly pad, which was shaped like a tree. She tucked it into her bag, and the moment he turned around, the femme tossed it back into the pile and strode around to the driver's door.

Sunstreaker let her enter, and he let her drive, merely because he was tired and he was hungry.

* * *

Jasmine glanced down at the blinking light on the dash, and she sighed, gazing around the sides of the road until she spotted a Husky station. The Lamborghini slid into the last empty spot, and the model stepped out to a cat-call.

She glared over her shoulder and her blue eyes flashed.

The sleazy middle aged man lifted his coke bottle at her from where he was leaning against his Peterbilt, the black paint covered in dust.

"Nice car, honey." He strode over, grinning at her over the top of the yellow sports car as she sidestepped over to the pump in heeled pumps. "But not nearly as fine as you."

"That's nice. Your truck needs a wash." Jasmine commented, eyes focused on the numbers flashing on the small screen.

"I can think of other things that need a wash."

Jasmine snorted. "I'd rather throw puppies in a woodchipper."

"Don't be like that babe! I'll take you to dinner first!"

"Where? Macdonalds? You don't need any more weight."

"Where have you been all my life?!" The man laughed, putting his hands on the top of the golden Lambo.

"Hiding from _you_." And the passenger side door flew open. The man made a pained sound and his eye twitched before he fell to the ground. Jasmine swiped her card through the slot and placed the pump back into its place.

The gold car was peeling out of the gas station in seconds.

* * *

Barricade cruised down the road he was patrolling and stopped at a four way stop. His hidden optics watched as a gold Lamborghini screeched to a halt at the stop sign on his left and if Barricade had been in his bi-pedal mode, he'd have raised an eyebrow.

That car seemed ever so familiar. The Decepticon activated his holoform, scanning the car and his holoform's eyebrows shot up.

That car was familiar because it was _Sunstreaker._ And he carried a _human. _

Never in his long life had Barricade expected the vain mech to carry a squishy. But perhaps their meeting had its merits.

The Saleen activated his lights and sirens as the Lamborghini pulled around the corner. It was immediately by the curb and Barricade's holoform stepped out of his alt-mode.

The driver's door opened a young, pretty redhead stepped out, balancing on high heels.

She blinked her large blue eyes and Barricade had decided what he was going to do in that instant.

"Was I speeding officer?" She tilted her head.

Barricade rubbed that back of his spiky black hair, red tinted glasses perched on his nose. The uniform he wore was opened slightly at the collar and it revealed the white under shirt, and pair of dog tags.

"No." He looked a little sheepish, and it hurt to do this. He was a giant metal Decepticon who could squishy her like a bug. "It's just….I wanted to tell you that you were pretty."

"Oh!" A pretty blush spread across her face. "Thank you! I'm Jasmine. Jasmine Volkov."

"Barry Cane." He took her extended hand and kissed the back of it. "Could I get your number? Maybe we could go out for dinner one day?"

"I don't normally do this," Jasmine fished in her yellow purse and tucked a card in his breast pocket. "But here. Call me for dinner soon."

She smiled she got back into Sunstreaker.

Barricade smiled, striding back to his alt form.

Yes. His plan would do nicely, and in the end, he'd have gained the location of the Autobots and possibly the Allspark shard.

* * *

"_Cute cop!? And you're only just telling me now!? And it was two days ago! You bitch!_" Jasmine stared at the phone, where Nikki's screeches came from.

"Yes."

"_Has he called you back!? Ohmygosh! If he calls you back-_"

"Hang on, Nikki. I've got another call coming in." Jasmine pulled her phone away and answered the incoming call. "Hello?"

"_It's a pleasure to hear from you again, Miss Jasmine!_"

"Barry!" Jasmine grinned, a light blush spreading across her cheeks. "Hi!"

"_You seem excited to hear me." _Barry chuckled. "_I take it you'd be willing to go on a date tonight?_"

"Yes! That'd be awesome!"

"_I'll pick you up eight tonight. Wear something pretty._" He paused. "_Not that you need it._"

"You're sweet, Barry. I'll see you tonight." She hung up on the handsome cop and returned to her call with Nikki.

"_You have horrible music in the background. Anyway, you've gotta let me know if I can help you get ready for a date-_"

"Nikki, I'm going tonight."

"_Are you?! What time~!? Did he say where he was taking you!? What was his name, anyway?_"

"Yes. Eight. No, he didn't. He said dress pretty. And his name is Barry Cane."

"_Ohmygosh! I'm gonna be, like, right over!_" Nikki quickly hung up the phone, and Jasmine shook her head, hurrying to the shower.

She'd spent the last two days sending posters to people and putting lost car ads in the newspaper. So far no one had phoned about a yellow Lamborghini with a red face on the right side. So, if everything went the way it was going, the car would be her's at the end of the week.

* * *

Sunstreaker watched with half-slagged scanners as his fleshy dressed for her "date" with Barry Cane. The other male she had befriended, her manager, had dropped off a bag the length of his shoulders to his knees and then roared off in his orange Jaguar.

He watched, rather rudely, as Jasmine stripped off her clothes and pulled open the bag, before putting on whatever was in the bag.

The dress was dark green and strapless. It had a green ribbon under the body part designated the breasts. The dress was knee length, and faded to a darker green as it went. The entire number was rather simple, but it was paired with a black heels.

Jasmine's red mane was pulled into a side braid, and it revealed a line of tattoos behind her ear. And now that he scanned her again, as she was applying some sort of gunk called "make-up", Sunstreaker could see she had another tattoo on her ankle.

He took pictures of the two tattoos, and then enlarged them so he could see what they were.

Sometimes, his curiosity got the better of him.

He blinked. And then blinked again.

That was...Cybertronian. The one behind her ear read '_Nightracer_', and the one on her ankle was the symbol for thirteen. His optics narrowed in suspicion.

This femme had more to her than he thought.

* * *

Jasmine smiled as she prodded her steak, nodding intently has Barry told her about one of his more dangerous missions.

Apparently, Barry had been transferred recently from somewhere in the Middle East, but she had lost the name while she was staring into his perfectly shaped chocolate eyes.

The cop was extremely nice; he'd escorted her to his patrol car, opened and closed the door for her, and pulled out his chair for her.

They'd been chatting for well over an hour now, and she was found that her date had a very nice sense of humor.

However, the pressing urge to pee was hindering her ability to sit still and listen like she wanted.

"I'm going to use that bathroom. I'll be back in a moment." Jasmine smiled, hurrying to the bathroom to pee.

Barricade smiled and took a bite of his lobster. It gave him pleasure to savagely rip apart the sea creature, and it didn't hurt that it tasted good.

His date wasn't bad looking by human standards. In fact, she was rather pretty. She was a model, which meant she knew the city well, and that would help in his search for the Autobots and the Shard.

He glanced quickly at the bathroom door, and slid his hand into his pocket.

* * *

"Thank you for a wonderful evening, Barry." Jasmine smiled, a hand on her door handle.

He smiled, and took her free hand, pulling her close. She blushed as he wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her close.

Their lips met, for a brief moment, but Jasmine swore she felt electricity. Barricade smirked, reveling in how easy it was to make this femme putty in his servos.

"I'll see you soon." She gasped, pulling away.

"I hope so." He planted another kiss on her cheek, and smiled as she strode into her housing unit.

Barricade's plan would go without a hitch. The fake stories he'd cooked up had drawn her in, and it was so easy to pull out feelings from her that it was amusing.

The holoform vanished, and the cop car pulled away with a growl.

Easy. How painfully easy the Autobots would fall.

* * *

**ForgotMyName2Day confused me. You start going off about My Little Pony. -processor shorts out- **

**Anyway, thanks your support guys! This chapter isn't one of my favouites, but I'm posting and posting makes for more reviews and happy readers. **

**I have no schedule, so you know, just watch for updates. **

**I'm trying something new for this fic, in that it's not just mostly-mindless humor and actually has plot. Lemme know what you think, and what you think may happen!**

**I'm interested in hear what you think.**


	5. Nightmare

_It was dark. _

_Dark and scary and cold.  
_

_The room was small and there was a distinct metallic smell, one which seemed to come from her. There was tiles beneath her, and walls touching both her shoulders. _

_The door on the other side of the room open, revealing the vague shape of a man in a lab coat. He leered down at her, grabbing her arm and dragging her down the fall. _

_He dropped her into a lit room where two other men were waiting and they hauled her onto the cold metal table she knew was waiting for her. _

_She whimpered, flailing her pudgy hands weakly as they strapped her down. _

_The men smiled down at her, reassuring everything was okay. And then they plunged a scapel as deep as they could into her leg. _

_She screamed, trashing against her bonds as one of them attached a cord to the metal in her leg, metal that sat beneath her skin, metal that was part of her, metal that was her. _

_The second man flicked a switch, and the cord crackled with blue electricity as power pumped into the frail body. He turned the switched back off after several excruciating minutes, leaving her weak and panting as blood and sweat dripped from her body. Crimson already stained the floor. _

_The first man was joined by a third, and the second meandered over carrying a tray of medical tools. The third scientist pat her head before lifted a large knife from the tray and placing it in the middle of her skull. He drove it through her skin as she screamed, waiting until the instrument hit metal before tugging the scalpel back to the base of her neck. _

_Accessing recharge protocols: offline? _

_Recharge protocols offlining in 0.34 seconds..._

Jasmine sat bolt upright, hands running along the scar on the back of her head, terror flashing through her eyes as she fumbled for the lamp beside her bed.

The model pulled her legs up, leaning against the wall as tears slid down her pale cheeks.

They had started again, her nightmares. They'd hadn't plagued her since she was seven. The model wondered what had caused them to return as she slid from her bed, hugging her stomach as she padded to the kitchen for a couple of sleeping pills and a glass of water.

The pills; she hadn't used them for ages, but kept them around anyway.

She sighed, placing the glass on her beside table and falling onto her plush bed. The redhead leaned forward, holding her head between her hands.

The time on her clock read four-thirty and she wondered if she would end up going back to sleep.

The pills slid down her throat and she fell back into the bed with a sigh, bright blue eyes closing.

* * *

Jasmine grumbled as she got out of bed, and shuffled over to the shower, where the redhead dunked her head under the icy water.

It woke her up instantly and she dried her hair off before heading downstairs for breakfast.

Nikki would be picking her up at eleven for a fashion convention, where she was going to be modelling some of the outfits all day.

Hopefully her nightmare was a one time thing, and wouldn't affect her much.

* * *

Jasmine smiled at one of the male visitors as he held up a camera, spinning so he could take a proper picture of the dress she was wearing.

It was a very pale blue, and it swept the floor. The dress was paired with silver heels and her hair was held up with an array of silver pins, all different flowers. The flowers were connected to each other by chains.

"Thank you." The man nodded, and he moved through the large crowd. Jasmine rolled her eyes and then vanished behind the curtain behind her.

Nikki was waiting with a garment bag.

"This is the last one, and then we can go." He smiled, thrusting the bag into his arms and then pushing her into a curtained off area.

There was a short black-on-black polka dotted dress, and a cropped elbow length jacket with brown fur around the top. A black fedora sat on the hanger, and a pair of black ankle boots were already placed inside the 'stall'.

It didn't take long for the model, who was used to dressing quickly, to take long to change.

As Jasmine stepped out into the crowd again, the loud announcement speakers screeched to life.

"Attention. Attention. This thing is on right? Great!" The male voice was awkward and obviously not used to using the system. "Everyone, listen up. We have received a a bomb threat. Please vacate the area calmly, in an orderly fashion. Immediately."

There was a moment of dead silence before someone screamed and someone else snickered. One of the designers activated the link they had with the speakers.

"Models, please keep whatever you are wearing. You may return them at a later date and the two-thousand-eight L.A. Small Designer Convention is over."

The redhead sighed, and headed for the parking lot. Unfortunately, Nikki had another model here today, one of his younger ones, and he had to take her home. The poor guy was ten, and looked exhausted last time she'd seen him.

Jasmine had actually walked here, and she wasn't too please about the fact she had to walk home in five inch black heels and a short dress. If she had a cigarette, she probably would have looked like one of those pimp chicks, but she had never focused on stuff like that so her comparison probably sucked.

She sighed, cursing the sunlight that heated her far more than she wanted.

Someone whistled, and she glanced at whoever it was out of the corner of her eye. Jasmine stopped dead, and blinked her longer-than-usual-because-of-mascara eyelashes at the blond sitting in the beat up 1970's Dodge Challenger.

"Where have you been all my life?" Miles asked, leaning over to open the passenger door.

"Hello, Miles. Nice to see you again." Jazz shook her head and lowered carefully into his car. "I was at a fashion convention today, but got shut down because of some bomb threat. I'm not too worried. Thanks for the ride."

The blond grinned, pushing his foot to the gas and roaring down the busy street.

"No prob. I felt bad watching you walk back in those shoes. How do women wear those things!? They're like death traps for feet!"

Jasmine laughed.

* * *

It was dark by the time Jasmine and Miles made it home. They had stopped at a restaurant to grab a bite to eat, and had sat in a park afterwords.

Jasmine had told Miles, who she considered a friend, how she hadn't ever played on a playground when she was little. So despite her five-inch heels, the blond male had dragged her to the park and they'd spent nearly three hours running around on it.

The redhead yawned as she pulled on an old pair of boxers and her father's old ACDC shirt, before collapsing into bed.

* * *

_The little girl paused, peering around a corner before darting to the next one. She crouched at the base of the wall when she heard voices, scowling, before she continued on. _

_The men in white coats would be back for her later, but for now, the girl had escaped and was free to explore. Her tiny face was set in a determined expression and she ducked into a large hanger as several men appeared at the opposite end of the hall. _

_She let out a sigh of relief, glancing around quickly before her eyes met the nearly roof-high robotic figure. He, the girl assumed, was covered in ice and several people in bright yellow bioharzard suits stood on platforms, taking readings and samples from the Ice-Man. _

_A hand suddenly clamped down on her arm, and the little girl squealed, struggling to get free. _

"_There you are, Thirteen." The man frowned down at her. The little girl stuck her tongue out and her cheek was met with a harsh slap. "Enough. You should have stayed in your cell...room. We don't know how you escaped, but it will not happen again, you hear?"_

_He was leading her away now, dragging her down the hall. Thirteen struggled, and kicked him as hard as she could in the shin. There was a sickening crack and Thirteen raced down the hall again, only to collide with a woman in a white lab coat. _

_She lifted an eyebrow and picked Thirteen up, throwing the small child over her shoulder. _

_The girl got a glance through the door behind the woman, and her bright blue eyes widened. There was a really big..._

_Thirteen's vision grew hazy, and she vaguely felt the tiny pinprick of a needle before it collided with the metal beneath her skin and released the tranquilizer. _

_Thirteen woke sometime later, strapped to a table. She blinked away her morning tears and yawned, wiggling her wrists only to receive a shock. _

_The little girl shrieked, and jerked, only to be electrocuted again. _

"_Thirteen, stop moving." One of the doctors in the room scowled at her, and pulled away the skin on her side. The skin he'd been slicing through to get to her abdomen. "You can visit with one of the others later if you hold still."_

_It wasn't as though she had a choice. So Thirteen held rock-still and the scientist was soon done, and Thirteen's visitor came. _

"_Thirteen, this is Four." The grey haired head doctor motioned to the teenaged male beside him. Four was tall, gangly, with crimson eyes and dark tan hair. His face was sharp, and the skin on his left arm, and both legs had been cut away. "Four is going to keep you company."_

"_Hi."_

"_Hi." Four waved. The doctor left. "Who are you?"_

"_Thirteen."_

"_What's your name?"_

"_What's a name?"_

"_It's what normal people call themselves. The doctor is Dr. Daniel Johns. I call myself Tech." The teen puffed himself up with a grin and then looked down at her. "I'm fifteen. How old are you?"_

"_I'm..." Thirteen thought for a moment. "Three years, five days, forty-seven minutes old."_

"_I just wanted the year. Gosh." Tech snorted, pulling up the chair the doctor had left there before sitting in it. _

"_Are there more? Like us?" Thirteen asked, curiosity in her eyes. She talked well for a three-year-old, exceptionally so. Her intellect was higher than an three year old too, but that was to be expected when one had a computer for a brain. _

"_Yeah. Two, me, Six, Seven and Nine. And you. You're the youngest of us. We've all got names. Two is Cathy, Six is James, Seven is Abigail, and Nine is Joshua. You need a name too, then you can be part of the group."_

"_Oh. Thirteen is fine. That's what the doctors call me." She shrugged, and winced as the movement set off the shock bonds. The doctor reappeared. _

"_Four, or Tech, as you like to be called. It's time to go. Cathy, James, and Abigail are waiting for you." He held the door open. _

"_Right. Bye, Thirteen. Maybe I'll see you soon!" Tech grinned, and strode out the door. _

_The doctor shook his head and rolled his eyes at the hopeful little girl. _

"_You won't see him again." _

_Thirteen blinked at him and then nodded slowly. _

_And it really was the last she saw of Tech._


	6. Servos and Sunstreaker

Barricade snickered quietly to himself as he browsed through a designer clothing catalogue for his holoform. He'd been 'dating' the human femme known as Jasmine for three months now, and though questioned at first by Starscream and the Fallen, his idea did prove to be a good one.

With a quick check of internal time, Barricade materialized his holoform in a pair of dark wash jeans, a button up black shirt, and a black leather jacket. His Decepticon symbol was hidden on his thigh, and the dog tags around his neck remained.

Barry Cane was dressed for success, and he was _going to be _successful tonight. He'd had enough of waiting. His red-toned brown eyes peered towards the suburban house his 'girlfriend' was waiting inside. Sunstreaker was either denser than he had originally thought, didn't care, or his scanners were busted from his landing on Earth.

Either way, Barricade didn't care so long as he got the location of the Autobot base. If he didn't get the answer tonight, he'd simply get the answer tomorrow at the fashion show Jasmine was modelling for.

The door opened and Jasmine appeared in a pale green mini-dress with a studded black leather jacket, a pair of black ankle boots. She wore a pair of tights, a slight off-tone from her skin, covered in turquoise butterflies. A black studded purse hung from her shoulder.

Barricade's holoform smiled as she dropped into his alt-mode and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Not too late, remember. I still have my show tomorrow."

"I know, I know." He chuckled, intertwining their fingers as he made it look as though he was driving. "Can't a spend a little time with my girl without work interruptions?"

"I'm sorry!" Jasmine laughed, facing lighting up in a sweet smile. "I won't speak of it. Where are you taking me tonight?"

"We're going for dinner at that new restaurant by the bay." Barricade chuckled.

"How did you know I wanted to go there!?" The redhead laughed.

"Lucky guess." He winked.

* * *

The couple was walking on the beach when Barricade's 'cell phone' went off. It was really his comm link, but he had to keep up appearances.\

"Hello?"

Jasmine frowned as he continued to talk and hung up with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Firefly. Reed got sick and I've got to take his shift tonight." It was actually code-name for '_I have to go attack Shanghai with Demolisher'_ . But she didn't need to know that.

"Alright." Jasmine sighed, following him back to his waiting alt-mode. The drive home was in silence, and she smiled sadly as she got out. "You'll try to make it to the show tomorrow, right?"

"I'll do my best, Jasmine." He grinned, waiting until she closed the door behind her to zip away.

The cop-car grumbled to himself as he drove away, snubbing Starscream under his breath.

* * *

Jasmine stood backstage at the wedding show, first in line to step on the runway. A makeup attendant was putting the finishing touches on her eyes.

The redhead was clothed in a pale blue dress with a sleeveless torso and a ruffled skirt that fell to just below her knees. A floor length veil was held into her hair by a comb and a pair of white heels were strapped onto her feet. A bouquet of white roses sat in her hand.

"Models on standby." The assistant stage manager snapped his fingers and the makeup artists scurried away. The audience applauded, and the designer for the show had obviously stepped onstage to make his speech.

Jasmine took a deep breath and steadied herself. It had been a while since she'd done a fashion show. Nikki was seated in the second row, and several big-shots in the fashion and modelling industry were seated front and center.

"Without further adieu, let's start the show!" Music began pounding and several flashes of light pounded outside the white curtain sectioning the changing area from the runway.

"First model, go." Jasmine's legs carried her forward and her blue eyes scanned the audience indifferently before she struck a pose at the end of the triangular catwalk and carried onto the next leg. The second she was backstage, dressers descended on her, pulling down the zipper and untying ribbons. It wasn't long before Jasmine was in another gown; a white off-the-shoulder ballgown with a trim waist.

It was around the seventh dress, a strapless ballgown covered in sparkles and rhinestones, that things went to the dogs. Or rather the giant angry-looking robot.

It rose from the parking lot, crimson eyes locked onto Jasmine, who had just finished her pose at the end of the catwalk. It was black and white, with 'Police' painted on both his arms.

Jasmine turned to flee, but the skirt of her dress hindered her movement. The robot easily made it's way toward her, the audience fleeing in terror. The redhead bolted, loosing both her kitten heels as she jumped off the runway. The skirt billow around her as she landed and the model ran as fast as her long legs could carry her.

"Come back, firefly." The robot sneered, meandering after her. "Don't leave me on the alter all alone."

Jasmine froze, blue eyes wide. The robot...sounded like _Barry._ She spun, only to scream as his enormous metal hand closed around her slim body.

"Pity, you were easy to catch." He sighed as his body shifted. Jasmine landed in the back seat of the oh-so-familiar cop car, hyperventilating. Mascara ran down her face and she was pretty sure the dress had been ripped.

Whether it was terror or something else, Jasmine was silent as the robot-car took the well known road up to the bluff.

"Look isn't this romantic?" The robot asked as he transformed again, squeezing none-too-gently as Jasmine landed in his hand. "The sun, the sea, and the dangerous drop to the extremely sharp rocks below."

The redhead screamed as he let go, only to catch her at the last moment. Tears streamed down Jasmine's extremely pale face and she whimpered as pain shot through her leg. The robot dropped her into his other hand, squeezing tight enough that she gasped for breath and struggled to get away. A sickening crack had her holding as still as she could.

"Oops? I think I broke something." He laughed, the red lights in his face gleaming. "Now, you know something I don't. If you tell me, _maybe _I won't hurt you anymore."

Jasmine nodded, going limp in his metal hand.

"Now, my firefly," The Barry-sound-alike snarled. "Tell me, where is the Autobot base!?"

"What's...an...Autobot?" She gasped, screaming again as he lazily increased the pressure on her ribs.

"You know what an Autobot is." He growled. "You've got one in your garage. The yellow Lamborghini."

"It's...just a car!"

"Is it though? Where is it!?"

"The car is-"

"The base! Where is the Autobot base!?" He yelled, dangling her over the edge of the bluff by her arm pinched between his large fingers.

"I don't know!"

"Lies!" He tossed her into the air, and transformed, activating his holoform as Jasmine dropped to the ground. Barry's normally slightly-copper brown eyes were fully red now, and he held a knife loosely in his hand.

Jasmine coughed, spitting out blood. The wedding dress she wore was ruined now, the white fabric torn and stained with dirt and blood from her wounded leg.

Barry sauntered over and crouched beside the pretty young woman, playing with the knife between his fingers. "Oh firefly, won't you tell me?"

"Barry!?" More tears cascaded down her face and she went to reach for the holoform, only for it to slash a deep cut into her arm. Jasmine screamed.

"Quiet." Barricade growled, backhanding her into the ground. "Where is the location of the Autobot base!?"

"I told you I don't know."

"You've been there! I could tell! Where is it!?"

"I don't know!"

* * *

Sunstreaker growled to himself as he sped through the streets, golden paint flashing. Horns blared at him, but the Lamborghini was too quick for anyone to catch the license plate number.

The golden mech knew his fleshy "owner's" schedule today, because it involved giving his alt-mode a wash. Every second Saturday, the femme would make time to wash him.

She was late.

And not only was she late. She was _missing_. The femme would have returned today at three in the afternoon. It was five.

Five.

She was two hours late, and somewhere deep down -deep, deep, deep, waaaaay down- in Sunstreaker's guarded spark, he was just a tiny bit -miniscule really- worried.

And then his scanners had blazed to life. Immediately, Sunstreaker honed in on the red dot blinking a top the bluff. There was a Decepticon.

And because there was a 'Con, that mean there was going to be Autobots eventually. And he would bet his best high-grade that the femme was with the 'Con.

Things like that happened when you hung out with Autobots.

* * *

Jasmine fell limp in Barricade's metal hand. Her head was tipped back and her elaborate up-do was hanging loose around her shoulders. The dress she wore was clinging to her body, covered in blood and dirt, several large cuts slashed through it. The skirt of the gown, which had once reached the floor, was up to her knees in tatters.

The Con sneered, and then went completely still as the human twitched.

* * *

**Stasis imminent. Unlock processor? Yes/No**

**Yes.**

**Onlining. Online weapons and battle processor? Yes/No**

**Yes.**

**Onlining. Low Energon. Force medical stasis? Yes/No.**

**No.**

**Deactivate holoform? Yes/No**

**Yes.**

Words flashed across Jasmine's vision, hidden beneath eyelids. She had no idea what was going on, but right now she was desperate, and even if she was hallucinating, it was probably better to activate all of that stuff.

Humming filled her brain...processor...and memories flashed though her head.

"_-most successful-"_

"_-battle-ready-"_

"_-dangerous weapon-"_

"_Lock it all."_

"_Give that thing to her mother. We have what we want."_

"_NBE-One. He started everything."_

"_Foolish sparkling."_

"_-the Cube-"_

"_Zap her again. It's the last time."_

"_I'm so sorry. I won't let them take you again."_

"_Stupid child."_

"_Never stop fighting."_

And her eyes snapped open, blazing optics of blue. Her skin melted away, revealing gleaming silver metal and wickedly sharp claws. The wedding dress clung to the metal, rips in the skirt and bodice flashing silver. Cables hung from her head, waving in angry-looking patterns.

Barricade dropped Jasmine in surprise and she bared her teeth at him, only the canines sharp.

**Battle processor activated. **

Her clawed servos up to the elbows whirled, gears and wires shifting to reveal two powerful looking cannons. Jasmine narrowed her blue optics and dug her pedes into the ground.

She was at Barricade's feet in three strides, blasting a shot into his leg. Barricade wavered, pulling out his blaster and one of his saws. It whirred to life and he slashed towards the femme, catching the edge of her dress. The fabric ripped again, but Jasmine got away.

The two fighters -one Decepticon, one Pretender- were a whirling pattern of movement until Barricade landed a blast in the femme's abdomen.

Her screech of pain shattered his closest audio receptor. Bright blue Energon spewed from the wound. The shot had ripped away most of her side; from her hip to just under under her breast was a gaping hole. Sparking wires and gears fell from her side and Jasmine curled into a protective ball.

**Medical stasis imminent. Send out an Autobot distress call? Yes/No**

**YES.**

Squealing tires and the crunch of metal-to-metal contact rang in her audio receptors, before a large finger prodded her.

"Oi." The being snarled. His voice was much different than Barricade's; more of an oozing sexiness to it, but beneath that was the roaring desire to maim. "Don't offline."

Jasmine titled her face up, and the large golden mech above her made a face.

"Do you have working distress signals?"

"Who are you?" Jasmine coughed out, cringing slightly away from him.

"Name's Sunstreaker." The roar of another car echoed up the bluff's road and Jasmine suddenly found herself in Sunstreaker's hands...servos, her processor supplied. "Slag."

He melted into the trees and transformed around her. Jasmine landed on the backseat. "_Try _not to get my seats dirty, would you?"

Jasmine took in the familiar interior, optics wide, but she didn't dare say anything. Talking hurt. Moving hurt. Laying there hurt.

A yellow and black Camaro snarled into the clearing, popping open it's driver side door. A human climbed out, backing away as the Camaro folded in on itself. The new Autobot aimed his stingers around the clearing.

"Anything, Bee?" The human asked, staying close by. Sunstreaker revved his engine and transformed again, striding into the clearing with Jasmine cradled in his servos.

Bee whipped his cannons around and then made a happy trilling noise, followed by several beeps and whistles.

"That's a good guy, right? He's not going to squish me?" The male human asked, nervousness pouring off him. Sunstreaker sneered.

"Stay out of my way and I won't."

"_Message to star-fleet captain...Found the treasure...But wait, there's more! For a limited time only...Staring at the sun. Mister Sun, Sun, Mister Golden Sun!_"

* * *

Jasmine woke to the beeping of machines in her ears, and she groggily opened her blue eyes view the white ceiling above her.

"Oh good. You're awake." A voice sighed from beside her, and Jasmine turned her head, surprised. A high-school student was seated there, rubbing the back of his head. "I'll get Ratchet."

He vanished, and Jasmine went to push herself up. However, a sharp pain in her side prevented her from moving at all. The redhead whimpered, and dropped back onto the pillow.

The teen returned with a doctor and then he left again. The doctor pushed his glasses up his nose, and fixed his bright blue eyes on her. He sighed, moving around her to check the machines, and then he pulled back her covers, checking the wound on her side.

"Good." Ratchet huffed, crossing his arms. "That will heal quite nicely. Do you remember what happened?"

"Um," Jasmine frowned slightly. "I was at the show, and there was this big robot and then he kidnapped me. He threatened to kill me. And...and...then something happened."

"_What_ happened?" He pressed, running his hand through his brown hair.

"You'll think I'm crazy."

"Try me."

"I turned into this...robot thing. My skin, like, melted away and I was a robot and I was shooting at him, the robot, I think."

"Sounds about right. Now, Jasmine," He leaned forward. "Can I ask about the tattoo behind your ear?"

Her hand shot to her neck and ear, surprise on her face. "It's more of a birthmark. I've had it since I can remember." She played with the pristine sheets. "It says-"

"Nightracer." He hummed, and then helped her out of bed. "Come with me. Optimus wants to see you."

"Who?" She winced and followed him out the door. She stopped dead when the S&R Hummer from her calender shoot three months ago appeared in her vision. The vehicle shifted, and then collapsed in on itself, rising onto two feet.

Jasmine screeched, and turned to Ratchet...who wasn't there.

"Come here." The Hummer grumbled, scooping her into his hand. "And calm yourself. You'll go into stasis if you over-work your spark so soon."

Jasmine took to curling into his palm, terrified for his life. Where they going to kill her? Demand for those...Autobot things? Dissect her for experimentation?!

A door hissed open and Ratchet stopped. "Optimus, I brought you Ms Volkov."

"Thank you, Ratchet. Please place her on my desk."

Yup. She was going to get dissected. Ratchet slid her onto the desk, and the door hissed shut again. There was a heavy vent from above her, but the redhead remained curled in a ball.

"The first thing I must ask you, Ms Volkov," Optimus spoke gently. "Is are you alright?"

Jasmine squeaked as she was picked up again.

"I give you my word I will not harm you in any way." The mech promised and Jasmine dared to open her eyes.

Optimus was bigger than Barricade and Ratchet, with kind blue optics, red-and-blue paint, and an aura that oozed trust. Jasmine involuntarily found herself relaxing.

"Ms Volkov?"

"I hurt and confused and I'm scared." She whispered, hugging her knees.

"I will explain some things for you. Perhaps that will help. I am Optimus Prime. We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron; Autobots for short. We came here searching for the AllSpark-"

_An enormous Cube, covered in mysterious ruins. Blue energy crackled down it's sides and into thickly insulated cables. Pained screams followed seconds after. _

"-a powerful relic from our home world. It was the only thing that could save Cybertron. However, it was destroyed when Samuel Witwicky pushed the Cube into Megatron's chest. Megatron is the leader of the Decepticons, the second faction in our war. He also wanted the Cube, and has been on Earth since perhaps ten thousand BC. He was destroyed along with the Cube."

_An enormous, bronze-coloured, robot with glowing red optics. His digits were clawed, and his armour pointed. Shark teeth sat in his mouth, and ice covered his body. People in bioharzard suits milled around the mech. _

"And we have met you before I believe, though it was not face to face." Optimus chuckled. Jasmine, who was living in flashing-by-memories, nodded.

"The calender shoot."

"Are you...alive and stuff? Like have a heart." She murmured, snapping from the memories.

"We are alive. However, our hearts are called sparks." The plates over Optimus's chest slid open, and a glowing orb of deep blue appeared. Jasmine sucked in a breath, and her hand snapped out before she could stop it.

Immediately, visions of what Jasmine knew to be Cybertron filled her brain, flashes of war and before. Optimus's life.

And then the connection snapped.

"What...was that?" Jasmine stared at her now metal hands. Obviously, whatever had kept the metal beneath her skin hidden had vanished.

"A spark-bond." Optimus's voice carried an edge of confusion. "However, the memories I received do not make sense. My brother never had a sparkling..."

His blue optics lit up fully again, and he nodded. "It seems as though we are related, though my brother."

"I'm your _niece_!? But my father was human! And so was my mother!" Jasmine protested.

"That is true. I assume your mother worked for Sector Seven while she was carrying you, and somehow got contaminated somehow. It explains it, mostly. And then I believe you were in the _care _of Sector Seven until you were six or seven. Exposure to the AllSpark energy would have expelled most human factors in your systems."

"Then...who _was _my father?"

"Megatron. However, he is dead." Optimus placed the Pretender back on his desk, and smiled slightly. "What remains to find out now, is are you in your early growth stages or are you simply a Pretender? Ratchet will expect you to remain in his Med-Bay until you are healed, and Sunstreaker and Sideswipe will most probably check on you once or twice."

"Sunstreaker?" Jasmine's brows pulled down into a frown. "My Lamborghini? Oh that's right! He's an Autobot."

"He's quite pleased to be reunited with his twin, Sideswipe. Sideswipe wants to thank you." Optimus chuckled, standing and scooping his niece into his servo.

Jasmine nodded, staring at her own tiny servos in fascination.


End file.
